Solitude Is Sometimes The Best Society.

But Pain Is Perfect Misery, The Worst Of Evils, And Excessive, Overturns All Patience.

Innumerable As The Stars Of Night, Or Stars Of Morning, Dewdrops Which The Sun Impearls On Every Leaf And Every Flower.

Ladies, Whose Bright Eyes Rain Influence, And Judge The Prize.

God Made Thee Perfect, Not Immutable.

O When Meet Now Such Pairs, In Love And Mutual Honour Joined?